


Teenage ... Dream?

by dollsome



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian’s return means splitsville for Regina and Robin, and Emma is determined to cheer Regina up—even if it means working a little magic. But when she accidentally awakens Regina’s inner teenager, life gets weird. Well. Weirder than usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. things were kinda heavy

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write some Emma Fights To Keep Regina Happy After The S3 Finale fic for awhile, and then I was watching Lost Girl and got to the episode where Bo and Dyson and Tamsin started acting like silly teens as a result of Powerful Magic, and I just had to borrow that glorious concept.
> 
> A warning: this story, like that episode, is totally, totally silly.
> 
> Also: I kinda grappled with how to handle Emma/Hook in this, since I’m not a fan but s3 definitely ended with them unignorably together, and I finally just decided to make a bit of a farce of it. So if you are an Emma/Hook shipper, I must forewarn you that this story so does not have a nuanced or thoughtful depiction of their relationship! I’m sorry! (Although I’m guessing most of the Swan Queen crowd probably won’t mind?)

At least Regina answers the door.

After five very awkward and excruciating minutes, but still.

She’s wearing silky blue pajamas and a robe; her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. There isn’t a trace of makeup on her face, so there aren’t any telltale mascara tear tracks to suggest that all she does is sit inside and cry over how Emma ruined her life all the time, but still. Her skin does look a little blotchy.

Emma never thought she would live to see the day when Regina forsook eyeliner. Even when they’re in the most life threatening of situations, Regina always has some seriously flawless eyeliner going on.

This is bad.

“Miss Swan,” Regina says, in a way that makes Emma nostalgic for the days when she had first moved to Storybrook and Regina pronounced _Miss Swan_ with such fondness and admiration. In comparison.

“Heyyy there!” Emma says gently. “How are ya, buddy?”

She holds up a carton of ice cream in one hand and a _The Heat_ DVD in the other.

Regina stares at her.

“Buddy?” she repeats disdainfully.

“No good?” Emma asks, crestfallen.

“No,” Regina says, and closes the door.

“Regina!” Emma shouts through it. “Come on.”

But Regina doesn’t come on.

Emma sighs and announces, “I’m not leaving!”

No reply. Which, okay, that’s fair. Emma didn’t exactly expect Regina to dance a merry jig to celebrate that one.

It doesn’t change the fact that she’s definitely not leaving.

Emma sits down, resting her back against the door. “I got us The Heat! It’s supposed to be a funny movie. Just a couple of awesome ladies solving crimes, getting stuff done, teaming up to save the day. Because who needs a man, right?”

“Says the woman with that pirate’s tongue perpetually down her throat,” comes Regina’s voice, muffled, from the other side of the door.

So she _is_ there.

Emma takes a moment to picture Regina sitting in the same position that she is, all defeated and resting against the door. It softens her heart a little bit. Reminds her that her cause is a good one.

“Not perpetually,” Emma says defensively. She knows Regina well enough to know that bickering will engage her way more easily than chats around feelings. “Not right now, for example.”

“Well, I appreciate that you didn’t bring your pirate lover here and slobber all over each other on my doorstep. Small mercies are all I can expect from you, clearly.”

“Ugh, don’t call him my pirate lover.”

“Is that inaccurate?”

“You know, now that it’s not All High Stakes Situations All The Time, I’m kinda ...” _Over it_ seems so harsh. But also kiiiinda accurate. “I mean, yeah, he gave up his ship for me. But you gave up our _kid_ and his whole life with you for me, and it’s not like we’re slobbering all over each other.”

“Thank you for that lovely visual,” Regina says dryly.

“Not that it’s slobbery kissing, me and Hook,” Emma adds hastily. “It’s normal kissing.”

She doesn’t want Regina to think she’s some kind of weird kisser.

Apparently Regina isn’t that invested: “I. Don’t. _Care_.”

“The point is,” Emma continues, “I may not have thought the whole Hook thing through. There’s a part of me that’s still heartbroken over losing Neal, but things were just happening so fast, and it had—you know—been awhile, and he’s not a bad-looking guy, and he just kept _gazing_ at me. And clearly punching him in the face wasn’t going to discourage him, so, you know, I figured, ‘Why not? Might as well give this a try.’”

“Romantic,” Regina says after a long pause.

“I’m just saying, it’s probably not a long term thing. Not a ... happily ever after thing. Sometimes you just date someone for awhile, and you go your separate ways, and that’s okay.”

There. Light. Subtle, but gets to the point.

For a moment, there’s silence that Emma decides is sort of peaceful. Like maybe Regina is realizing that, yeah, it sucks, but in the long run it’s all gonna be okay—

“And sometimes,” Regina says, “you’re happier than you’ve ever been, and then _someone_ decides to resurrect your true love’s wife and plummet you right back into the misery that seems to be your birthright.”

Aw man.

“I didn’t resurrect her!” Emma protests. “I just ... found her. Regina, are you really mad at me for saving an innocent woman’s life?”

“No, I’m mad at you for destroying mine. Again.”

On the other side of the door, there’s the sound of footsteps. Fading footsteps.

“I’m still not going anywhere!” Emma shouts.

No answer.

She does leave after twelve minutes, because she gets the sense that she’s not accomplishing much. But she leaves the DVD and the ice cream.

 

+

 

Emma asks Hook, “What’s a gift that says ‘sorry for ruining your life, but, ya know, I did stop someone from being _dead_ , so let’s not act like I’m the bad guy here’?”

“Flowers,” Hook grunts, and continues his quest to undo her shirt buttons. Good luck with one hand, champ.

“Flowers. You think I should get Regina _flowers_?”

“I don’t know. Swan, I think it’s grand of you to worry about Regina, but has it ever occurred to you that she’ll keep on hating you no matter what you do?”

“Oh, she definitely hates me,” Emma says. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna just give up on her.”

“You are a truly perplexing woman,” Hook sighs. “Can we please shag now?”

“Kinda busy here, dude,” Emma replies, and plucks his hand off of her chest. “Are you ever going to put on some normal clothes, by the way?”

Hook stares down at the leather monstrosity that is, apparently, his only outfit. “What’s not normal about these clothes?”

Emma decides that even The Savior can only handle one impossible quest at once, and goes back to Operation Cheer Up Regina.

 

+

 

“Maybe there’s some magic that could help cheer her up,” Emma muses later, hanging out with Mary Margaret. The baby’s newly snoozing, and Emma and her mother are celebrating with a round of very quiet tea-drinking in the kitchen.

“You can’t just go casting spells on people to fix things,” Mary Margaret says.

“Well, I tried the natural magic of ice cream and a legendary Bullock-McCarthy team up, and that went _nowhere_.”

“You know, movies aren’t quite as appealing to those of us from the Enchanted Forest,” Mary Margaret says. “Since we didn’t have them there. Why don’t you try something a little more suited to the life that Regina is used to?”

“Like what?” Emma asks, bewildered.

“You could play her a quaint serenade on the lute,” Mary Margaret suggests enthusiastically, after a moment of brainstorming.

Emma stares.

“Or not,” Mary Margaret mutters, chagrined. After a moment, she goes back into sensitive feelings mode. “She’s suffering a terrible disappointment, Emma. This is the first man she’s loved since Daniel. And he died.”

“Well, at least Robin just left her to be with his miraculously not dead wife,” Emma says. “I mean, that’s progress, right?”

Mary Margaret gives her a Look.

“All I want is for my nemesis to be frickin’ happy for once,” Emma groans, and rests her head on the table. “Is that so much to ask?”

“I think she was happy when she was young,” Mary Margaret says thoughtfully. “At least sometimes, despite her mother. When I first got to know her, she loved horseback riding and being outside, and there was just such a sense of ... of _life_ to her. I could never quite forget that. Even when she was at her worst.”

This gives Emma an idea.

Apparently it shows.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says warily. “What are you thinking?”

“Um, nothing,” Emma deflects. “Just—do you guys really not like movies? Not even Jurassic Park?”

“We had real dragons,” Mary Margaret says.

“T-rexes are way cooler than dragons,” Emma says.

“T-rexes couldn’t fly,” Mary Margaret says.

“That’s because flying,” Emma says, “is for giant reptiles who are trying too hard.”

And, well. That goes on for awhile.

But in the back of her mind, Emma keeps thinking.

 

+

 

It’s not a _spell_. Not exactly. Just ... a thought. A really determined thought.

_Let her find that again,_ Emma wills that night lying in bed, and there is that strange wonderful thrum in her veins that means her magic is listening. _Let Regina feel young again, and full of life, and free._


	2. you brought me to life

Emma goes over to Regina’s again the next morning. This time she’s got Henry in tow, because reinforcements are always a good idea. Sure, Regina can slam a door right in Emma’s face, but there’s no way she’ll do that to Henry. Henry has been visiting Regina on his own, but he hasn’t said much to Emma about the specifics of those outings—just brief, cryptic stuff that makes Emma feel horrible. (“She’s just really sad,” he told Emma last week. “I don’t know if she’ll ever get better.” It was right then and there that Emma decided that come hell or high water, she was going to snap Regina out of this.)

And besides, Emma has a secret hope that Regina will be at least a little more cheerful today.

But it turns out nobody could have expected just _how_ cheerful.

They ring the doorbell, and Regina comes and answers it. She’s wearing a flowy sundress that’s a cheerful shade of baby blue – Emma wasn’t aware that Regina owned anything in a light pastel – and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. This time, though, it’s like a declaration of her perkiness and not a hairstyle of heartbreak.

“Henry! Emma!” Regina exclaims, and pulls them both into what can only be described as a group hug.

Emma realizes that there’s music pouring out of the house. Really, really cheerful music.

“Are you listening to ... I’m Walking On Sunshine?” Emma asks as Regina releases them from what is no doubt the most friendly greeting she’s ever gotten from Regina. Henry tries to smooth his ruffled hair.

Regina beams at her. “Something about it just felt _right_ today! I bought it on iTunes. Isn’t iTunes spectacular? You know, Henry, when I was your age, if I wanted to hear my favorite song I had to wait around for a troubadour.”

“That sucks,” Henry says, apparently caught between confusion and major entertainment.

In solemn tones, Regina answers, “It _totally_ sucked.”

Henry laughs a little, disbelieving, and looks to Emma.

“And _Emma_!” Regina continues, grasping Emma’s shoulders. “You look beautiful today! I mean, a little butch, as usual, but it works on you.”

“Butch?” Emma mutters, and stares down at her flannel-and-vest combo with new suspicion.

“I’m glad you’re feeling so much better, Mom,” Henry says.

“Thank you, Henry!” Regina exclaims brightly. “You know, I woke up today, and I just thought, ‘He’s just one boy. So—’” She covers Henry’s ears with her hands and then, to Emma, mouths quite giddily, ‘EFF ROBIN.’

Emma blinks.

Regina takes her hands off of Henry’s ears. “What’s Robin Hood going to matter in the grand scheme of things? I still have my whole life ahead of me! And,” she adds in a confidential whisper, “my mother’s not even here to tell me what to do.”

Emma waits for the Your Mom Killed My Mom angst spiral to begin, but Regina just lets out a giggle and then turns around. “Come in, come in! But I’m warning you: it’s a mandatory dance party.”

“What other kind of dance party is there?” Emma says lamely.

“You are _so_ funny!” Regina insists, tapping Emma on the nose with one perfectly painted red fingernail. “The quips, the vest ... Emma Swan, you’re priceless.” Then she turns and flounces away.

“Is she on drugs?” Henry mutters.

“Your mom wouldn’t do drugs, kid,” Emma mutters back.

“She used to pull people’s hearts out of their chests,” Henry says reasonably. “I feel like there’s not really a limit on what she would do.”

“That’s fair,” Emma admits, and the two of them watch Regina skip merrily back into the house. “But I think this one might be on me.”

 

+

 

“... and so I think that this is probably my fault,” Emma finishes, preparing herself for the wrath of Regina.

Not that Regina looks very wrathful right now: she’s bopping around the room to _Do You Believe In Magic?_. At one point, she grabs Emma’s hand and twirls her while Emma is mid-contrite-sentence.

Emma tries to stay on topic despite all the dancing. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to make you feel better, Regina. I didn’t know it would get quite this—extreme.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regina answers, releasing Emma’s hand and doing a little shimmy. “I feel perfectly normal. More energetic than usual, maybe, but perfectly normal otherwise.”

“How old are you?” Emma tests.

“Thirty seven,” Regina replies. “Give or take twenty eight years of magical stasis. It’s very rude to ask, by the way.”

“So you don’t think you’re sixteen?”

“How could I have a son Henry’s age if I was sixteen? It’s called _math_ , Miss Swan.”

Henry snickers.

“Not helping,” Emma says, pointing at him.

“Sorry,” Henry mutters.

“I just think I might have actually, you know—turned you back into your teenage self.” Emma says the last phrase as quickly as she can, to try to soften the blow.

Regina just huffs impatiently. “I _know_ I’m not a teenager. Do I _look_ like a teenager? You need to accept that I’m a grown-up woman now.”

“Spoken like a true grown-up woman,” Emma deadpans.

“I’m just—feeling rejuvenated. That’s all.”

“If you say so,” Emma says suspiciously.

“Besides, I assure you, Emma – teenage me was never allowed to have this much fun.”

Having met Cora, Emma can definitely believe that.

Regina bounces over to her laptop and switches to a new song. Which iiis ... _Single Ladies_. This bodes well.

“Have you heard this one?” Regina asks over the music. “It’s an anthem to the pointlessness of men. I like this Beyonce. I think she has the makings of a true queen.”

Then she starts attempting the dance moves from the music video.

She’s pretty good at it. But still.

“This may be the actual weirdest thing that has ever happened to me,” Emma says dazedly. “You showing up all, ‘You’re my mom and fairytales are real’? Not the weirdest anymore. Sorry kid. You’ve been beat.”

“That’s okay,” Henry says, equally baffled. “I get it.”

“ _Oh oh oh, oh oh oh_!” Regina sings along, with some serious attitude.

 

+

 

“All of the food in this house is boring,” Regina declares about twenty minutes later, when Emma suggests they should stop dancing and have brunch.

“Even the kale?” Henry asks, with the world-weary vibe of a kid who’s had to eat a lot of leafy greens.

“Oh, Henry,” Regina says. “ _Especially_ the kale. That’s it. We’re going shopping.”

“Awesome,” Henry declares, smiling.

“Uh oh,” mutters Emma, following the pair of them to the door. She reaches for one of Regina’s black peacoats. “Um, maybe you should put this on. Might be chilly out! You never know.”

“Black is so not my color,” Regina says, wrinkling her nose. “What have I been thinking all these years??” She stares, aghast, at the coat. “God. It’s so dull.”

“Nuh uh,” Emma protests, waving the coat like that will somehow make it more enticing. “I always thought it looked really good on you.” But that sounds weird as soon as she’s said it, even if it’s just some plain, simple truth between co-parenting frenemies, so she hastily adds, “Um, it’s got a good—coat shape—”

“You can borrow it if you want to,” Regina says impatiently.

Emma sighs. “No, that wasn’t what I was—”

“But we’re not trading. I’m _not_ wearing the vest.”

“I didn’t ask you to wear the vest, Regina, I just—you know what? Fine. Let’s just go. I just don’t want people to  think that something’s up with you.”

“I don’t care what these people think of me,” Regina retorts. A flash of earnest feeling crosses her face. “I’d like to just be myself for once, thank you very much.”

And, well, it’s hard to argue with that. Maybe Regina does deserve a break from being burdened by all her losses and sins, of which there are approximately eight billion at this point.

“Yeah, all right,” Emma says, giving her a slight smile. Regina returns it with a small smile of her own. Emma’s seen her like that a few times before—quiet and a little timid with hope—but she’s not sure if the feeling has ever been so open on Regina’s face before.

 _Sorry, buddy,_ Emma thinks to the black coat, and hangs it back up.

“And I’m buying potato chips,” Regina adds defiantly.

“Whoa, Mom,” Henry says, grinning.

Regina grins back devilishly.

 

+

 

They draw a few stares at the supermarket, but Emma thinks that’s probably less because of Regina’s cutesy outfit and more because she keeps crying out excitedly over stuff like Toaster Strudel.

“What about the No Pastries That Aren’t Homemade rule?” Henry asks warily.

“That’s a stupid rule,” Regina replies. “Get three boxes.”

Henry looks almost giddy enough to try the _Single Ladies_ dance, and starts digging boxes of Toaster Strudel out of the freezer.

Emma vows to grab a bag of carrots when they aren’t looking.

“I didn’t expect to see Regina out and about so soon.” Emma turns to see Ruby standing there with a basket over her arm, her expression politely bewildered.

“Yeah, well, you know.” Emma chuckles weakly. “Can’t keep her down for long.”

Ruby stares at the cart next to Emma. “Are those frozen mini cheeseburgers? Is _Regina_ getting those?” She frowns. “Is—is it some kind of mental breakdown?”

Then she looks up at Regina, who’s merrily grabbing bags of frozen French fries.

“See you later, Ruby!” Emma says, and pushes the cart away as fast as she can.

 

+

 

Once they get home, life swiftly becomes a tribute to junk food, candy, and Henry teaching Regina how to play video games. (“Something with lots of smashing in it,” Regina requested, to Henry’s glee.)

Emma has to admit, it’s pretty nice to watch them. Sure, magical weirdness is afoot, but there’s something really great about watching Regina and Henry laugh together.

Emma’s about to go join the video game madness when her phone rings.

It’s Mary Margaret, asking if she and David can drop the baby off here so they can run some errands.

“No, no,” Emma says quickly. “Don’t come here. I’ll, uh, bring Henry there.”

“Why? It’s no trouble—”

“I just think ...” Emma lowers her voice. “Regina might not be in the mood to see the baby right now. You know, because she, um, probably thought she was on her way to getting married and having babies, and we don’t want to depress her even more, right?”

“That’s very sensitive and forward-thinking of you, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, sounding a little suspicious.

“I’m a sensitive lady,” Emma says distractedly. “Anyway, um, I think it might help if I just hung out with Regina for awhile, just the two of us. How about Henry heads over there to babysit?” Louder, she asks, “Henry, are you good to babysit?”

“Are you?” Henry replies rather significantly, nodding toward Regina. She’s currently shouting at the video game and fiddling with the controller frantically.

“I got this,” Emma promises.

“Oookay,” Henry says. “Then sure.”

“Is that Regina shouting ‘DIE, DIE’?” Mary Margaret asks. “Emma, if things are getting dangerous over there, then you really should—”

“No, I got this, it’s fine,” Emma interrupts. “It’s, uh—this emotional catharsis exercise thing. I found it on the internet. Don’t worry. Regina’s one hundred percent not evil. Just ... totally normal Regina stuff.”

“EAT ME, YOU GOON!” Regina shouts victoriously at the television, and then gets up and starts doing a victory dance. A victory dance that involves—oh, okay, yikes, a little bit of booty smacking.

Henry puts a hand over his eyes.

“If you say so,” Mary Margaret says resignedly.

“I say so,” Emma says quickly. “I’ll get Henry right over to you. Bye!” She hangs up on the sound of Mary Margaret’s voice, and then asks, “Regina, is that dance _really_ necessary?”

“Yes,” Regina answers primly, and then settles down to keep playing.

Emma rolls her eyes. “If you say so. Okay, I’m going to take Henry over to David and Mary Margaret’s to watch Neal. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Are you gonna be okay here alone?”

“Emma,” Regina says. “I’m a grown woman. I cursed an entire Enchanted Forest. I can take care of myself.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma says. After a moment’s thought, she sternly adds, “But no more Toaster Strudel.”

“I’m a queen, mind you,” Regina says smugly. “A queen can eat as much Toaster Strudel as she wishes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a princess, and I say you’re gonna make yourself puke.”

“Queen trumps princess.”

“Fine. Make yourself sick. See if I care. Henry, let’s go.”

“Rematch tomorrow?” Henry asks, nodding at the TV.

“Count on it,” Regina says, smiling.

 

+

 

When Emma gets back, it’s to find Regina painting her toenails, listening to more Beyonce, and sipping a bottle of hard apple cider. At least Regina knows how to really keep with the apple theme.

“ _Drinking_?” Emma says, and then feels sort of embarrassed at how uptight she sounds. But—really!

“Calm down, Miss Swan.” Regina rolls her eyes. “I _am_ thirty seven.”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t acting thirty seven, you punk,” Emma says, reaching for the bottle. “Give me that.”

Regina holds it out of her reach, then proposes with a tantalizing smile, “I’ll share.”

Emma glares for a minute, then surrenders. She sighs, grabs the bottle, and takes a sip, sinking down on the couch next to Regina.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Regina says, wriggling her newly painted toes. “I need another woman’s perspective, and I suppose you’ll have to do.”

“Wow,” Emma mutters, “thanks.”

“I’ve decided what needs to happen.”

“What?”

Joyously, Regina announces, “Rebound!”

“Rebound,” Emma repeats uneasily. Oh no.

“It’s a genius concept. It didn’t really exist back home—back home was all about one true love, marriage, babies—but here any silly movie or magazine will tell you all about it. Basically, you get over the one who’s broken your heart by having sex with a _different_ one! I’ve had sex, you know,” she adds, rather smugly.

“You don’t say,” Emma says awkwardly.

“With _two_ guys.”

“At once?” Emma jests.

“You can do that?” Regina asks, her eyes widening.

“Er,” Emma says, “what were we talking about? So, sex, huh?”

“Don’t worry, Emma,” Regina says, giving her a pat on the shoulder that is most definitely condescending. “It will happen for you someday, too.”

“Uh,” Emma says, “thanks.”

“Someone will overlook that vest and see the goodness of your heart,” Regina continues.

“Oh my God, if you hate the vest so much, I’ll take it off,” Emma says, exasperated. “And it is not butch, by the way. It’s ... practical in brisk New England climates.” She starts unzipping it, then looks up to see Regina watching her.

Regina stares at Emma for a long time, her eyes wide and suspicious. It makes Emma aware of just how close they’re sitting.

Then Regina asks, “Are you trying to seduce me?" 

“What? No!!!!” Emma yelps, pretty much leaping to the other side of the sofa.

“Good,” Regina says after a slightly too-long pause, the words too crisp and clipped. “Don’t.”

As she scrambles to redo her vest—she’s zipping this thing up to her damn chin if that’s what it takes—Emma says, “I wasn’t going to. That wasn’t ever actually a possible event.”

“Let’s go find a _proper_ rebound.”

“I wasn’t trying to be your improper rebound—”

“There must be someone else out there who will do the job.”

“It’s like two in the afternoon,” Emma points out. “ _Where_?”

But Regina doesn’t seem to be in the mood to listen.

Juuust great.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I have no real idea how old Regina is supposed to be on the show (Me? Pay attention to details? On this show?? Naaah), so I just consulted my buddy IMDB and used Lana Parrilla's age. If there is actual canon establishing how old Regina is, do let me know!
> 
> 2\. Regina's video game victory dance was highly inspired by [this instance of bloopery shenanigans ft. Lana](http://dollsome-does-tumblr.tumblr.com/post/94044601178), which is actually what motivated this ridiculous story to exist in the first place. :)


	3. get your heart racing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize heartily for the continued ridiculousness of this. Clearly I just have a lot of pent up feelings of mockery toward ol' OUAT.
> 
> I meant for this to be the last installment, but it got away from me a little bit. So there should be one more chapter after this one! Yay?

The lunchtime crowd at Granny’s clearly doesn’t know what it’s in for.

Regina flounces in at maximum level fierceness. The only reason there aren’t literally flames dancing around her is because Emma managed to convince her that some guys might find that just a tad too intimidating.

As predicted, the pickings are pretty slim.

This town _really_ needs another hangout spot.

“Hey look,” Emma whispers. “There’s Archie. Should I tell him to look out?”

“Ha ha,” Regina says dryly. “No. None of them will do. I suppose I’ll just have to—”

And then she goes quiet, and all it takes is following her gaze across the room to realize why. Robin and Marian are sitting in a booth in the far corner, hand in hand and leaning in close to each other over the table.

Emma looks back at Regina just in time to see her face turn stricken, and then frost over.

“Hey, Regina?” Emma says, quietly but urgently. “Let’s go, okay?”

Regina ignores her, which isn’t really a surprise.

But then there is a surprise: she takes Emma’s hand in hers.

“Uh,” Emma says. “Um—okay, okay. Holding hands. That’s nice. You need some emotional support, I get it, and Regina, I’m here for you, but—”

Regina starts dragging her across the diner.

Emma is overwhelmed with a sudden and very acute sense of _UH OH_.

Regina doesn’t stop until they reach the booth right next to the one currently occupied by her ex-boyfriend and his inconveniently not-dead wife. So this is definitely going to be awesome.

Emma tries to settle down into her seat like this is a totally normal lunch outing. It doesn’t help that everyone in the diner knows what happened between Regina and Robin and they’re all staring this way without even trying to be subtle about it.

It _really_ doesn’t help that Emma left her vest at home. She’s feeling very vulnerable without it. Friggin’ Regina, and the fact that all the stuff she says has way more of an impact in Emma’s brain than it should.

Speaking of Regina: she’s currently at her fiercest, all blazing eyes and red lips and a look of such fiery determination that Emma’s pretty surprised the diner hasn’t burst into flames.

Okay. Emma’s mission is simple here: keep things from escalating.

She takes a deep breath and then reaches for the menu. “You want a burger? I’m thinking burger—”

Regina interrupts this totally legitimate attempt at sane conversation by doing something completely insane.

She leans over the table and kisses Emma. Hard.

The diner erupts into gasps.

Emma’s mind goes totally blank. Which is good, because otherwise she would have to figure out how to deal with this situation, this Regina’s lips situation, and she is only capable of so much, okay—

Regina pulls away and gives her a rather devilish smile. And a wink.

No one should look good winking. It’s not fair.

“Um,” Robin says. “Hello, Regina.”

“Oh, Robin,” Regina says sweetly, turning to face him. “I didn’t see you there. I was just so swept up in Emma. You remember Emma. The Savior.”

“I remember Emma,” Robin says weakly.

“Hi,” Emma says, not so strongly herself.

Regina continues airily, “She isn’t a renowned pickpocket, it’s true, but not all of us can be as lucky as Marian here.”

Emma gives Marian a sympathetic look. A look that could probably be interpreted as _Sorry it’s my fault that you’re alive for this excruciatingly awkward moment._

Robin sighs. “Regina—”

“This is probably awkward for you,” Regina continues with a pitying smile. “We’ll go.”

“No, no,” Robin says. “Stay if you like.”

“So you’d like me to stay now?” Regina asks. “You know, you’re very fickle.”

“Jeez, Regina, come on—” Emma attempts, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go, okay? Um—babe?”

Regina gives her a smile that somehow manages to communicate perfectly just how annoyed she is. “If you say so, babe.”

“I do say so, babe,” Emma says firmly, and tugs hard on her hand.

“Well, I’d better listen to her,” Regina says to Robin. “Can’t keep this one waiting. We’re absolutely dying for some alone time. If you know what I mean.”

“I know what you—”

“Sex,” Regina interrupts pointedly. Emma groans. “We might even invite someone else to join us. You can do that, you know.”

Robin’s eyes widen.

Marian mutters something to Robin that sounds oddly like, “I _told_ you.”

“Off we go, then,” Regina says, letting Emma drag her up out of the booth at (too) long last. “Ta ta!”

They’re almost out of the diner, when:

 “What about Hook?” asks Granny suspiciously.

“Please,” Regina says. “Even _Emma_ ’s not stupid enough to really be interested in that seafaring numskull.”

Everyone seems to accept that news way too easily.

“Um,” Emma says belatedly, “yeah!”

She sends some _Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!_ thoughts in Hook’s direction (wherever he might be) to make up for it.

Regina continues, “It was all an elaborate ruse to hide our love. We know that there are certain things too wild for this town to handle, and, well, our romance is certainly one of them—”

“Actually, we’ve all been wondering for awhile when it would come to this,” Archie interrupts.

“Really?” Emma asks blankly.

She meets Regina’s eyes, and at least it’s a relief to know that Regina looks as confused as she feels.

“You already have a child together,” Archie elaborates. “Henry deserves a stable home.”

“Right,” Emma says, relieved. “That makes sense.”

“Also, enemies don’t usually look at each other’s lips that much,” Leroy says helpfully. “Weird behavior.”

 _Busted,_ Emma thinks, and then feels deeply betrayed by her own brain.

“ _You’re_ weird behavior,” Regina snarls at Leroy. 

“... My weird behavior what?” Leroy asks after an awkward five seconds. 

“I think she meant you _are_ weird behavior,” Archie explains.

“Kind of a weak burn from an evil queen,” says Leroy.

Regina’s eyes get an angry glint that Emma suspects could very easily result in actual fire. And a way stronger burn.

“Okay, let’s go now,” Emma says quickly. “Byeee, everybody!”

 

+

 

Once they’re outside, Regina walks ten steps—enough that she’s out of sight through the diner windows—and then bursts into tears.

Oh no.

“I’m such a fool,” she sobs. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll never live this down.”

Emma puts a tentative hand on her back. “Oh, come on. You ruined the lives of basically everyone in this town and you’re doing all right with them. One weird trip to Granny’s isn’t going to destroy everything.”

“So it _was_ weird?” Regina sniffles, looking up at her with shining eyes.

For a second, Emma’s tempted to lie to her, but then she figures that it’s better for Regina to have the truth. “It was pretty weird.”

Regina lets out a particularly depressing wail.

Emma’s heart does a sad little flop.

“Hold on a second, okay?” She squeezes Regina’s hand before letting go, and then turns back to the diner.

As soon as she steps inside, everyone’s eyes are right on her.

Jeez. Does anyone have a life of their own in this town? Isn’t everybody supposed to be burdened with complicated fairytale problems that leave no time for gossip?

“Attention, everybody!” Emma calls. “Any weird Regina behavior that just happened isn’t her fault, okay? I, uh, did a spell on her, and it’s not exactly going as planned. So just blame me for that one, okay? Totally me. My bad. Just—be nice to Regina. Or you’ll get a smacking from the Savior. I mean. Not really. I wouldn’t do that. But—”

“We’ve got it, Emma,” Archie says mercifully.

“Oh, thank God,” Emma mutters, and gets ready to depart.

But once again, these hooligans just can’t let it go.

“So you cast a love spell on Regina?” Granny asks, raising her eyebrows.

“No, I—” But Regina is still outside crying, and that should probably be the priority, and who cares what these people think right now, anyway? (Although Emma should definitely contact Hook about this before things get too crazy.) “You know what, sure. Yes. I cast a love spell on Regina. I ... love Regina.”

“Definitely saw it coming,” Granny declares, and everyone mumbles in agreement.

Emma tries to figure out how to argue against that one, and finally decides it’s impossible. There is clearly no reasoning with these people.

 

+

 

Regina has found a bench to sit on by the time Emma gets back to her, and she’s not crying anymore. Instead, she’s just staring down at the ground, her face blank and exhausted. It’s somehow worse than the crying.

Emma sits down next to her.

“I loved him,” Regina says softly.

“I know.”

“I never thought I would love anyone after Daniel. I practically swore not to. And yet I opened my heart again, and—and all it led to was more pain and humiliation.”

“You know that Robin must feel awful too—”

“I never want to think about him again,” Regina says curtly.

“Well, okay, um. Change of subject. Hey! You kissed me.” Emma bumps her shoulder against Regina’s. “How about that, huh?”

It gets Regina to look up at her, at least. “I would never have done it unless the circumstances were dire.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It was,” Regina says delicately after a moment’s pause, “less repulsive than I expected.”

Emma is suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of herself (basically) shouting _I love Regina_ to the unfortunate patrons of Granny’s Diner. It was a lie: obviously she doesn’t _love_ Regina. So what is up with whatever it is she’s feeling right now?

Probably just magic guilt about casting an accidental, not to mention ridiculous, spell on her platonic partner in parenting.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Finally Emma manages a quizzical, “Thank you?”

For a split-second, Regina looks almost disappointed at Emma’s answer.

“If I happened to traumatize you, well—” She sits up taller, her voice taking on some of normal Regina’s elegant tension. “—blame Robin for that, too.”

“Oh, Regina. I know it sucks, but you just really need to—”

“ _LET IT GOOOO! LET IT GOOOOOO!_ ”

Emma and Regina glance in unison down the sidewalk, where a blonde woman in sparkly blue is twirling her way toward them, shooting snowflakes out of her fingertips. Like ya do.

“Okay, pretty sure I’ve never seen her before,” Emma says, frustrated. “How are there so many hidden weirdos in this town?”

“Please.” Regina sniffs. “We’re very busy. It’s not our fault if we don’t have time to keep track of the ...” She considers the singing girl, then finishes, “Randos.”

“Good point.” Emma tries to focus on the matter at hand. “Anyway, Regina. I know that this is hard for you, and I’m really sorry if this stupid spell made things even harder. Now there are probably going to be a lot of rumors flying about you and me, and—”

“ _I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY’RE GOING TO SAAAAY_ —”

“You wanna go somewhere quieter?” Emma asks, frowning at Blue Twirling Snowflake Girl.

“Good idea,” Regina says with a formidable glare.

“ _THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME ANYWAY_ ,” announces the newcomer with great musical aplomb, and tosses her blonde braid over her shoulder. As she dances past them, she waves her fingers, sending a flurry of snowflakes at them.

Regina flicks her hand, and a dainty burst of flame devours the snowflakes.

“Hmph!” exclaims the ice princess, and twirls angrily away.

“That was mean,” Emma scolds, snickering despite herself.

“You know you loved it,” Regina says with a brilliant flash of a smile, then gets up and saunters away.

Emma follows after her, allowing herself a little smile too.


	4. i let my walls come down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears there will indeed be one more chapter after this one. This story just doesn't want to end!

They spend the afternoon on Regina’s sofa, watching _The Heat_ and drinking wine and carefully not acknowledging anything that happened on their little trip out of the house. 

(Well, okay, that’s not completely true. Regina starts to hum something that sounds suspiciously like Snowflake Princess’s inspiring anthem; off Emma’s wary look, she says, “What? It’s catchy.”)

Regina doesn’t laugh much at the movie, but she doesn’t explode the TV with her eyeballs either, so Emma decides to call it a success.

When the movie ends, they sit in silence for a long time. Emma tries to sneak glances at Regina without actually looking like she’s doing it.

At last, Regina says, “I know you’re staring at me.”

“What? Am not.”

Regina makes a doubtful little noise, and then it’s back to more awkward silence. Finally, she says, “I’d like you to undo the spell, please.”

Emma stops trying to sneak-look at her and just _looks_ at her. “You sure?”

Regina must not be in the mood for eye contact; she pulls a throw pillow into her lap and stares down at it. “I know I was flippant about it earlier. But I had forgotten just how much you feel things when you’re young. I’m so used to channeling those feelings into—”

“Cursing enchanted forests full of people?” Emma suggests.

“ _Rude_ ,” Regina declares, pointing sternly at Emma. “And ... well, yes. Essentially. And now I just ... feel it. And it hurts.” The hurt is so plain on her face that it makes Emma’s heart ache in sympathy—just for a second, before Regina goes back to being her totally annoying self. “Not to mention that I’m not a fan of humiliating myself in front of this whole town by deigning to kiss the likes of you.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, if it helps any, I told them that you were under a love spell.” But that seems a little vague, so she continues, “That I cast. On you. Because I love you. Um,” she adds hastily, “because I told them that I loved you. Obviously I don’t—so, uh, yeah. Everyone at Granny’s thinks you’re under my love spell.”

“And they bought that explanation?” Regina says, raising her eyebrows doubtfully.

“Suspiciously fast,” Emma says.

Regina stares at her for just slightly too long, her eyes bright with something that almost looks like curiosity.

Then, very abruptly, she pronounces, “This town is full of lunatics.”

“Right,” Emma says. “Lunatics.”

“So—” She tosses her hair and sits up straighter, like she’s preparing herself to be magic’d. “You can fix me now.”

“Uh, okay,” Emma says, and tries to hide the fact that she is entirely clueless.

She doesn’t do so well.

Regina narrows her eyes. “You do know how to fix me, don’t you?”

“I already told you earlier that I don’t!”

“I don’t remember that.”

“That’s probably because you were too busy getting your Beyonce on to listen to me.”

“Oh my God, Emma!” Regina smacks her with the throw pillow. “I can’t believe you just did this to me and you don’t even know how to—to turn it off!”

“I’ll fix it!” Emma says, wrenching the throw pillow away from Regina and tossing it across the room. “Just—sit still.”

“You _so_ don’t know how to do this,” Regina says smugly.

“Shh shh shh!” Emma orders, frustrated. She takes a deep breath and then announces, “I got this.”

 

+

 

Emma does try. It just doesn’t go very well. At one especially depressing low point, she booms, “Spell be gone!” and does some jazz hands and hopes for the best. Unfortunately, all that gets her is a seriously judgy look from Regina.

Finally, Emma abandons jazz hands and settles for hands thrown up in the air in exasperation. “I give up.”

“ _Finally,_ ” Regina huffs, then throws in a very grumpy, “I can’t believe you don’t know how you did it.”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose! It was accidental magic. I didn’t know I was even ... magicking, necessarily. I thought I was just ... having powerful feelings.”

“Powerful feelings?” Regina says, suddenly looking way too interested. And potentially mocking. “About me?”

“Shut up,” Emma says, brilliantly.

Regina is practically preening. In a really fiendish way. “It’s all right if you have a crush on me, Emma.”

“Please,” Emma says, maybe a little too quickly to be convincing. (Which is stupid, because it’s just the truth.) “You wish.”

Apparently Regina can’t take the tables being turned, because she exclaims, “Ew, I do not!”

“Then why did you bring it up?” Emma demands.

“You’re the one who told everyone you put me under a love spell! Can you really blame me for being suspicious?”

“ _You’re_ the one who kissed me in public! I was concocting an explanation for your bizarro behavior!”

“Yes, well, you’re the one who decided I needed a rebound!”

“That was _you_ ,” Emma says, and thinks she really deserves some kind of award for not pulling Regina’s bouncy ponytail. “Oh my God, can we just get back to the magic stuff, please?”

“Fine,” Regina says crisply. “When and where did you cast this spell?”

“Why?”

“Because certain spells require symmetry to end them. If you’re in the same place as you were when you cast the original spell, and you summon your magic at the same time, then maybe that will do the trick.”

“Then it’s gonna take awhile, because I was in bed in the middle of the night.”

As soon as she says it, Emma realizes it was a big mistake.

“Emma,” Regina says, her eyes all deviously a-sparkle, “I’m going to ask you something, and don’t worry. You can be honest.”

“Oh boy,” Emma mumbles to herself.

“Just how often do you think about me while you’re in bed?”

“Okay, can you stop acting like I’m—like, _courting_ you? You’re the one who kissed me! Any weird romantic vibes are on you, buddy.”

“That was a vengeance kiss. It didn’t count.”

“Your mouth was on my mouth! It counted.”

“What?” Regina asks scornfully. ( _Too_ scornfully?) “Do you want it to count?”

“As if!” Emma tries to put as much power into those two words as humanly possible.

Regina just gives her a skeptical look. And then winks. What is with all the winking?!

“Teenage you is way too flirtatious,” Emma declares irritably. “I never thought I’d miss the amount of time and energy you usually devote to revenge and brooding.”

“And mocking the rest of you idiots,” Regina adds.

“That too,” Emma sighs.

Regina looks pleased.

 “So what should we do about fixing this?” Emma asks, striving to get back to business.

“I should probably be there with you,” Regina replies. “That way, it will be easiest to see if reversing the spell works.”

“All right then. You’re spending the night at my place.”

Regina’s eyes start gleaming bright.

“What?” Emma says warily, ready for a whole new round of _You love me!_ nonsense.

But apparently Regina’s teenage girl enthusiasm has taken over. Giddily, she says, “ _Sleepover_?”

 

+

 

“This apartment is tiny,” Regina announces pretty much as soon as they set foot in Emma’s new place. “Why would you live in such a tiny apartment?”

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Emma replies dryly. “Maybe you should take it up with the person who willed this entire town into being. Oh wait, that’s you.”

Regina makes a face at her and then keeps on examining the extremely tiny premises.

Hook, who decided to check up on things, frowns at her. “There’s something very wrong with the fact that _she’s_ spending the night with you before I have.”

“So you _haven’t_ done it yet,” Regina says with smug satisfaction.

Emma groans. “Why do you _care_?”

“Hands off my lady, witch,” Hook says warningly.

“Why?” Regina grins wickedly at him. “You afraid she might like me better?”

“Bah!” Emma says. “That’s just ... wonky. Yeah right." 

That might have come out a little too fast.

Hook doesn’t seem to think she’s being weird, though. He rolls his eyes in Regina’s direction and then pecks Emma on the cheek. “Good bloody luck with this one, Swan. You’re going to need it.”

“Like you’re such a prize, Captain Guyliner,” Regina scoffs.

Hook gives her one last eyeroll (and there’s no denying it, his eyes definitely pop), then leaves.

“Your boyfriend is an idiot,” Regina announces.

“Yeah, well, at least I have—” Aw, crap. Backtrack! Backtrack! “—a bunch of popcorn!” Emma finishes lamely. “Who wants popcorn? I’m making popcorn! Popcorn!”

“Stop saying popcorn,” Regina orders, giving her a serious ‘you’re crazy’ look.

“ _Popcorn_!” Emma reiterates in desperation.

 

**+**

Thank God for Henry. He comes over and valiantly gets rid of most of the tension in the air.

Not only does that kid know how to eat a lot of popcorn—which is helpful, since Emma panics and makes way too much—but he also inspires Regina to act ... well, if not normal, at least manageable.

The two of them settle down in front of Emma’s TV for another round of video game madness. Emma pops a frozen pizza into the oven and listens to the sounds of happy shouting. Finally, she decides she can’t just let them have all the fun without her.

“Can I cut in?” she asks, sitting down on the couch.

“Sure. But look out,” Henry says, grinning as he hands Emma the controller. “She’s dangerous.”

Regina gives her a syrupy sweet smile. “Are you in the mood to get your ass kicked, Miss Swan?”

“Somebody’s cocky,” Emma retorts. “But I learned from the best here.” She ruffles Henry’s hair, and Henry fights her off good-naturedly.

“Well then,” Regina says, smirking in a distinctly dangerous fashion, “bring it.”

This turns into a serious enough gaming duel that Emma forgets about the pizza. Five minutes too late, she remembers with an abrupt “Oh shit!” and hurries over to the oven.

Of course Regina takes this opportunity to declare herself the winner.

Wicked queens so don’t play fair.

 _But they’re still pretty fun to play with,_ Emma thinks privately, smiling a little to herself as she rescues the poor pizza from the oven.

 

+

 

They eat slightly charred pizza on the living room floor and Emma can’t help but think how nice it is, the three of them together. No imminent doom, no magical weirdness. Well, no major magical weirdness, anyway. Just a family eating dinner at home.

Regina seems to be thinking the same thing. When Emma catches her eye, Regina looks back at her happily. “This is ... pretty perfect, isn’t it?”

Henry looks back and forth between them, smiling.

“Not the pizza,” Regina adds to Emma, because of course she can’t ever let something just be nice. “You burned that.”

“Gee, thanks,” Emma says.

“I like it,” Henry says gallantly. “It’s ... crunchy.”

“Thanks, kid,” says Emma.

Regina takes another bite and concedes, “It’s still quite good.”

“Why, thank you,” Emma says in mockingly fancy tones, and tries not to get too caught up in thoughts of how nice it is to see Regina smiling like that—like it’s easy, and there’s so much to smile for.

 

+

 

Henry gets to stay up too late playing video games. Emma figures it’s a special occasion, especially if this whole spell reversal thing goes according to plan, so she doesn’t usher him off to bed until after 11:30.

Before he goes, he gives Regina a good night high five.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks.

“Duh,” Regina teases, smiling.

“Good luck.” He hugs her. “I hope it works.”

“Even if it makes me totally uncool?” Regina asks; her voice is light, but Emma spots the uncertainty passing over her face.

“You’re always cool, Mom,” Henry says, giving her a sleepy smile before shuffling off to bed.

 

+

 

Emma remembers the alarm clock by her bed blinking 12:01 during that first ill-advised bout of magical wishing. Which means that the time to try to reverse this thing is almost upon them.

Emma leads Regina to her bedroom, feeling stupidly jittery about it. It’s not like this is a social call. It’s strictly business. Magic business. Business time.

No, not business time. That sounds ... weird.

“So, uh, you should probably come hang out in bed with me,” Emma tells Regina as neutrally as she can. “Or—by the bed. Near the bed. It’s probably best for you to be at the scene of the crime—I’m not trying to seduce you!”

It just seems best to put that out there.

“I didn’t say you were.” For once, Regina doesn’t have that wicked note to her voice. She sounds almost shy, even.

Emma can work with shy.

She’s feeling kind of stupidly shy herself.

“I’m going to go change into my pajamas,” she says quickly, grabbing what might be pajamas out of her drawer (honestly, she doesn’t really take the time to check) and fleeing to the bathroom.

It isn’t until she’s closed the bathroom door behind her that she realizes that might have been something of an unnecessary move.

“Why do I even need to be in pajamas for this?” she mutters to herself.

Damn it!

 

+

 

At least she’s not the only one who suffers a pajama freakout.

When she gets back, Regina is sitting on her bed, and she’s wearing one of Emma’s white t-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms with little red apples all over them. Emma got them back when all things Storybrooke were wiped from her brain; she’d just spotted them at the store one day and felt a little unaccountable tickle of amusement at the sight of them.

Now she realizes it’s probably because some buried part of her was thinking of Regina.

Well, that’s just ... really unhelpful.

“Whoa there, pajama thief,” she jokes weakly. “Hands up.”

Regina shrugs, pulling the elastic band out of her hair. “I didn’t want to be the only one dressed wrong for the party.”

“Well, those are definitely the pants for you.”

“I thought so,” Regina says, smiling a little as she runs her fingers through her hair.

She looks more familiar with her hair down. More like the Regina Emma knows and—and misses, despite everything.

Emma’s kind of looking forward to getting her Regina back.

... Not _her_ Regina. That Regina. The normal Regina. That one. That’s all.

Emma glances at the alarm clock, and feels a rush of relief when she sees 11:58 glaring back at her. “Hey, look at that. Three minutes to go. You ready for this?”

She sits down on her bed, careful to leave room between herself and Regina.

“I certainly am.” Regina sighs. “It’s been a strange day.”

“That it has,” Emma says. “But not too bad, right? Apart from seeing ... him. You learned to explode your video game enemies. And, hey, you finally discovered Beyonce. That’s good stuff, right? Plus: Toaster Strudel.”

Regina isn’t listening. “I’m going to have to see him for as long as we both live here,” she says grimly. “It’s not like I can banish him and his family from Storybrooke just because he broke my heart.”

“It’s mature of you to say so. The old Regina would have kicked that guy out on his ass.”

“Maybe it’s just my young foolish heart talking,” Regina says, smiling wistfully. “And as soon as your spell’s gone, I’ll inflict all the pain and suffering on him that he’s given me.”

“Hey.” Emma touches her arm lightly. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”

“I do?” Regina asks, quiet.

“ _I_ do, at least,” Emma says firmly.“You’ve grown a lot, Regina.” Emma almost stops there, but then she decides she might as well keep telling the truth. Regina’s earned it. “And—and I’m proud of you. You’re a good person.”

Regina stares at her for a long time, not bothering to hide how much the words mean to her. Her eyes brighten with tears.

“Emma?” she says softly.

“Regina?” Emma doesn’t mean to sound as breathless as she does.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” Regina says slowly. “For awhile now. Even though I don’t think I quite admitted to myself that I was thinking it. You know?”

Emma feels suddenly and abruptly terrified, and completely sure of what’s going to happen.

“Anyway, I’m going to do something now,” Regina says, “because as soon as this spell’s reversed I—I know I never will. And I want to. I want to know I tried.”

Emma’s heart is pounding and she kind of thinks she might pass out and so she starts babbling. “What are you talking—”

Regina leans forward and quiets her with a kiss.

It’s not wild or passionate, or some kind of crazy attack kiss like the one at Granny’s. This time, the press of Regina’s lips is light and careful, like she’s expecting to be pushed away any second. After a moment, Emma moves into the kiss, and the little surprised sigh that Regina breathes is maybe the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

When Regina pulls away, her face is bright with fear and hope.

Yep, Emma might actually pass out.

But then the clock switches from 12:00 to 12:01, and the air around them starts to glint with magic.

Emma can barely find words to think with, but this, this is important, and so she musters up all the brain power she’s got. _Let Regina be herself again. All grown up. Here and now._  

The glinting magic centers around Regina for a moment, seeming to embrace her. Regina’s eyes are wide with uncertainty. Then the glittering dust disappears in a flash, and it’s just Regina and Emma alone.

“All better?” Emma says faintly after a moment.

Regina is staring at her, stricken.

Emma knows right away that it worked. There’s a certain something to Regina’s face—something haunted and unsure and tired. Emma’s known that look for a long time now. It’s the one she’s used to.

The kiss still blurring her thoughts, Emma reaches for Regina’s hand. “Regina—”

But before she can even stumble her way through a sentence, Regina’s up and out of the room.

“You’re stealing my pajamas!” Emma calls after her desperately.

All she gets in response is the sound of the front door slamming.

“You stole my pajamas,” Emma mutters pitifully to the empty room.


	5. no regrets, just love

After Regina leaves, Emma spends ten minutes sitting absolutely still, staring forward at nothing in particular. Just, ya know. Adjusting to the fact that she now lives in a world where she’s kissed Regina Mills in a non-diner-vengeance capacity. Regina Mills. Who’s apparently wanted to kiss her ... for awhile?

“Too weird,” Emma whispers. “It’s too weird.”

The worst part is how, underneath the several layers of panic and chaos and confusion, it doesn’t exactly feel weird. It feels ... inevitable, but in a good way. Like finally realizing you’re already home.

 

+

 

When Emma opens her eyes the next morning after some truly fitful sleep, the room seems too bright. She is so not in the mood for daylight right now.

She checks her phone. No new messages. She doesn’t really know what she’d expected from Regina. ‘hey girl sorry i kissed you and ran off and stole your adorable apple pajamas, no hard feelings, its all good, xoxoxoxo’?

Yeah right.

There’s no way Regina’s not a stickler for grammar in texting.

Emma sighs.

When she goes out into the kitchen, Henry’s there already, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Where’s Mom?” he asks. He sounds a little too calm, like he’s been preparing himself for disaster all morning.

“She, uh, wanted to sleep in her own bed,” Emma replies.

“Did you fight?”

“No,” Emma says. That much is the truth, at least. She’s pretty sure. “I think she felt weird, once the spell was gone. She just wanted a little time to herself. I mean, it makes sense, right?”

“Yeah,” Henry says, a little sadly. “That makes sense.” After a moment, he adds, “I think I’ll go see her today.”

Emma smiles tiredly. “I bet she’d like that.”

“Do you want to come, too?”

Emma considers it for a moment before deciding no way. The kid is way too smart. He’ll probably accuse her and Regina of recent makeouts within like two minutes of seeing them around each other. And then be scarred for life or something. Is that the kind of stuff that scars your kid for life? (It’s not exactly sticking them in a magic wardrobe and catapulting them to a lonely life in New England, but.) As casually as she can, Emma suggests, “How about you guys just have some one-on-one time today?”

“All right,” Henry says, and Emma can’t decide whether she’s relieved or just kind of in anguish.

 

+

 

Anguish. Definitely anguish. Especially when Hook comes over that afternoon. Emma drags him out to a walk in the woods. She’s mostly hoping that something magical and eerie will happen. When was the last time they had a good mystical emergency situation? Where have all the fictional villains gone? Where’s Voldemort, or Sauron, or maybe Moby Dick?

Not in Storybrooke, apparently. It’s just a bunch of trees and fresh air and walking side by side with her new and newly-cheated-on pirate boyfriend.

“Something happened,” Emma says when she finally just can’t take it anymore. “And I feel like I should tell you about it. I don’t know what else is going to happen. Probably nothing, but maybe not nothing, you know? So I feel like I should probably just ... say it. You’re probably going to think I’m messing with you, since it sounds completely crazy, but—”

Hook sighs. “You realized you fancy the Evil Queen.”

“Yeah,” Emma says without thinking. Then she thinks. “I mean, what? No! ... Maybe. How did you know?”

“Always suspected it would come up sooner or later,” Hook replies with a shrug. “There’s just something feisty in the air when you two are in a room.”

“Seriously?” Emma scoffs. “Come on, we’re not _feisty_.”

“You’re a bit feisty.”

Emma considers it, then admits, “Maybe a little.”

Hook smirks. “Told you.”

She’s pretty sure that the smirk is mostly there to hide the pain.

“Killian,” she says, touching his arm, “I’m sorry.”

He gives her a slight wistful smile. “I always felt there was something holding you back. I just assumed it was that you didn’t want to get mixed up with a scoundrel like yours truly.”

“Well, you are kind of a scoundrel,” Emma says fairly. “Not to mention super annoying.” She throws in a smile to show she’s teasing.

Hook scowls at her good-naturedly. “Turns out,” he adds, nudging her, “you were already spoken for. Which became very easy to see when we got together and all you wanted to do was talk about Regina’s broken heart.”

“Whoops,” Emma says meekly.

It’s not the worst breakup she’s ever had. She’s not in prison and he’s not a monkey, so all in all, Emma figures, things end on pretty good terms.

Except for the part where, just before they go their separate ways, Hook says, “Now run off to the wife and make things right.”

Emma makes a face at him. “She’s not my _wife_.”

Hook gives her a doubtful look.

“... is she?” Emma asks. The words come out as sort of a wail by accident.

“She’s your wife, Swan,” Hook says sagely. “Get used to it.”

 

+

 

When Emma gets home, she discovers her parents sitting at the kitchen table. And they both look suspiciously somber.

“Hey, aren’t you guys supposed to be out on date night?” she says, trying to seem like she’s just come home from something totally normal. “That’s why Henry’s babysitting, right?”

Their expressions just are not lightening up.

“What’s going on?” Emma asks. “Is it Voldemort?”

Mary Margaret ignores her. “Emma. First, I want you to know that we know this is probably just an elaborate scheme that you and Regina have concocted for some reason. But just in case it isn’t—Emma ... sweetie ... we support you. But love spells are never the answer.”

David nods in grim agreement.

“What?” Emma says weakly.

“I know it feels unlikely that Regina could return your feelings,” Mary Margaret goes on. “Considering ... your history. But be brave. Tell her how you feel. And maybe she’ll surprise you. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she surprised us.”

“Oh my God,” Emma groans, covering her face with her hands.

“So you’re not in love with Regina,” Mary Margaret tests.

Emma peeks out at her from between her fingers, but can’t quite seem to speak that extremely necessary ‘No.’

Mary Margaret gasps. Emma can’t tell if her mother is horrified or just really excited.

“I’m not in love with her,” Emma says belatedly, and tries to sound extra forceful to compensate. “Hook just broke up with me because he thinks she’s my wife. That’s all.”

Warily, David asks Mary Margaret, “Does this mean we’re going to have your stepmother ... for a daughter-in-law?”

“Maybe we should get to know some people outside of Storybrooke,” Mary Margaret says with a slight frown. “The family tree is getting confusing.”

“Probably a good idea,” agrees David.

“Nobody is gonna be anybody’s stepmother daughter-in-law!” Emma exclaims.

“Sure somebody is!” Mary Margaret protests. “Emma, don’t give up! I’m sure you’re just as good at wooing as Robin Hood. Just trust yourself, and lay off the love spells.”

Emma holds back a groan. “So let me get this straight—”

“Not if you don’t want to!” Mary Margaret chirps.

Oookay. Best to just breeze past that one. “You’re encouraging me to woo your worst enemy.”

“Former worst enemy.” Mary Margaret waves a hand nonchalantly, like she’s just brushing away decades of bitterness and torment. “We’ve been getting along much better lately. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if after all this conflict, you finally got to settle down as a family?”

 _Yes,_ says an unhelpful little voice in Emma’s head. To drown it out, she says, “Can you please just never talk about this again?”

“Sure,” David says.

“No,” Mary Margaret says.

Emma looks at them. “Why are you still wearing your coats, anyway?”

Mary Margaret says, “Well, we didn’t want to spring this on you right away, but ...”

Her parents take off their coats in unison, only to reveal—

“Where did you get PFLAG t-shirts??” Emma demands. An idea hits her. “Have you guys been preparing for this?”

“What?” David says quickly. “No.”

“Of course not!” says Mary Margaret.

“You and Regina maintain a completely normal amount of space between you when you’re talking,” David says. “It’s not weirdly close at all.”

Emma must be channeling yesterday’s Regina right now, because she feels an almost insurmountable desire to run to her room, slam the door, and scream that her parents are ruining her life.

Better late than never?

“Please just go on date night,” Emma says to them. “I promise, if Regina and I decide to tie the knot, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Maybe a spring wedding—” Mary Margaret begins giddily.

“Out!” says Emma.

 

+

 

Emma ushers her parents out, only to discover that they’ve made it even _more_ impossible for her not to think about Regina.

The least she can do, she reasons, is listen to Hook’s breakup advice and go make things right with the ... “wife.” (They aren’t wives, are they??)

The only thing stopping her is the fact that she’s suddenly terrified by the idea of ever interacting with Regina again. She can’t shake the memory of Regina’s face as she left last night. That face was way more ‘Oh look, the world is ending’ than ‘Gosh, I think you’re swell, let’s date.’

Still, this is ridiculous. If Emma’s freaking out, then Regina must be freaking out harder.

There’s something strangely heartening about that.

And so Emma settles down on the sofa with a blanket and a cup of tea. How freaked out can anyone really be when they’ve got a blanket and a cup of tea? She’s just settling down for a nice calm evening. No worries.

It’s a total casual scenario for texting former enemies who’ve recently kissed you.

Emma throws back a whole lot of chamomile liquid courage, and then she texts Regina. It feels like a feat of bravery on par with vanquishing a dragon. ‘You okay?’

She prepares herself for a hundred-year wait. Maybe she’ll take a nap. Hey, maybe that’s Storybrooke’s latest twist: she’s actually Rip Van Winkle.

But it turns out it’s not necessary. Barely a minute passes before a reply appears: ‘You needn’t worry about me.’

It might be the first time in human history that the word “needn’t” has appeared in a text message. You can’t take the fancy out of the queen, Emma supposes.

It also seems pretty damn hard to take the total certainty that everyone close to her will always be willing to abandon her at a moment’s notice out of the queen.

Well, Emma’s not going to give her any reason to believe that. She ignores the legion of butterflies in her stomach and texts, ‘I just want you to know I’m okay with what happened.’

The pause is longer this time. But finally: ‘Me too.’

Emma waits for more.

After five excruciating minutes have passed, Emma texts, ‘So what should we do about it?’

No answer.

Emma can’t totally blame her. She has no idea either.

She sits for ten minutes. Just enjoying the chamomile. The blanket. The relaxation.

“Screw this,” she mutters abruptly and gets up.

 

+

 

It’s dark out by the time that Emma finally musters the courage to go and see Regina. She spends an embarrassing amount of time beforehand curling her hair.

And then messing her hair up to try to make it look like she’s not getting all fancy for Regina.

Then she tries on everything in her closet.

It’s all totally stupid behavior. It’s not like this is some first date situation. It’s _Regina._

She briefly entertains the idea of maybe just wearing a white tanktop and accessorizing with a chainsaw. In retrospect, the memory of chopping down Regina’s apple tree seems ... sort of foxy?

But this is not the time for foxy.

(Is it?)

She finally puts on another flannel shirt and the vest of doom, just to show that Regina doesn’t own her. Emma is like ninety percent sure that Regina doesn’t own her.

Seventy percent.

“Congratulations, Savior,” she announces to the mirror. “You’ve officially lost it.”

 

+

 

By the time she makes it to Regina’s house, Emma’s become kind of pleasantly jittery. Sure, she’s considering the possibility of a romantic relationship with her kid’s other mom, who has occasionally been her arch-nemesis and is also technically her step-grandmother (thanks for that reminder, Dad), but at the same time ... it’s Regina. Now that she’s got the idea in her head, she can’t shake the feeling that this just fits.

Then Regina’s front door opens, and out comes Robin freaking Hood.

He and Regina embrace briefly and exchange a few words. Emma takes advantage of their distractedness and nonchalantly dives behind the nearest hedge.

“That’s okay,” Emma mutters to herself. “That means nothing. They’re probably just saying goodbye. Just a nice, platonic goodbye between exes.”

Robin says one last thing, then turns with a little skip in his step and walks swiftly away. Emma tries really, really hard to become one with the hedge. It seems to work: he doesn’t notice her.

Regina stares thoughtfully after him, folding her arms, and then turns toward the door.

And, well, it’s not like Emma can do anything now, right? Not after she’s been beaten here by a dude whose existence inspired a cartoon fox. There’s no competing with that.

Emma sighs the sigh of the defeated.

Not quietly enough.

Regina turns back around, witchy senses on alert, and notices Emma casually embracing the hedge.

“What are you doing?” Regina asks. It’s in that lofty tone of hers that makes the sentence sound like it should end in ‘you moron.’

“Huh?” Emma says. So subtle.

“You’re in my hedge.”

“Buy a girl a drink first,” Emma chortles out of sheer panic, and then hates herself.

“What?” Regina says flatly.

Emma groans. “I don’t know. I’ve had a seriously weird few days. Yesterday I was babysitting teenage you, and today my pirate ex-boyfriend told me you were my wife. So excuse me if my game is a little off.”

“Hmm.” Regina considers her for a moment. Emma takes the time to fully extricate herself from the stupid hedge. Then: “ _Ex_ -boyfriend?”

“Yep. I guess he didn’t want to fight you.”

“That was smart of him. For once.” It goes quiet and tense. Finally, Regina asks, “Are you going to stand there all night?”

Emma takes that as an invitation to move forward. She hurries up the walkway to the front steps.

Once she’s there, Regina stares at her for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Regina says at last, pretty grimly.

“For what?”

“The _kiss_.” She whispers the word like it’s cursed, like anyone who overhears it will drop dead or something.

So that’s romantic and encouraging.

Emma frowns. “I thought we agreed that neither of us were sorry about that.”

Regina sighs impatiently. “I know you. You’re good, Emma. Maddeningly so. You care about my feelings—” She grimaces a little at the word. “—more than most. If that meant sending one little pity text to make me feel better about a ridiculous mistake, well, I wouldn’t put it past you. You probably figured that it was the heroic thing to do—”

Emma decides _Yeah, enough of this nonsense_ , takes Regina’s face in her hands, and kisses her firmly into silence. Regina seems happy to abandon her depressing ramble in favor of kissing Emma back.

“What about that?” Emma asks softly, pulling away. She feels pleasantly flushed and smiley, her heart skipping. “Do heroes do that?”

Regina looks distinctly glowy too. “So you meant it.”

“I meant it.”

Regina starts to smile, bright and sweet. Emma had first really started noticing those smiles back when Regina and Robin got together; she’d never realized before just how radiant Regina could be. How good happiness looked on her.

And okay, maybe there were some unaccountably bristly feelings she’d felt at the idea that Robin was the one to make that happen. Which makes a lot more sense now.

And speaking of that guy ... “Wait. You’re not back with Robin, are you?”

“What?” Regina says, sounding equal parts breathless and annoyed. “No.”

“So he was over here because ... ?”

“Because,” Regina says impatiently, “he’s a decent man, and he didn’t want to leave things between us in a bad place. So we talked.”

“How was it?”

“All right. I explained to him the true reason for my behavior yesterday, and he was very understanding. And he ... explained to me about Marian. And I suppose I understand where he’s coming from. All of those things about marriage and family.” Regina laughs bitterly. “My relationship with my former husband wasn’t exactly ideal, so it always slips my mind that marriage can actually be a good thing instead of a cage.” Her expression darkens slightly at the memory.

“I almost married a monkey,” Emma contributes to lighten the mood.

It’s an effective distraction, at least. Regina wrinkles her nose. “What?”

“I thought we were swapping bad marriage stories. I’m just saying, my record’s not the best either.”

“... All right, then.” Regina widens her eyes slightly, in what is very clearly a ‘this woman is crazy’ expression. Emma can tell she’s amused though, so mission accomplished. “Always a charming anecdote.”

Sobering, Emma asks, “What did Robin say?”

“Just that ... that kind of bond is unconditional. You’ve vowed to stick with them, no matter how hard things get. No matter what obstacles are thrown in your way. You ... you’ve made a promise, to choose them.” Regina pauses, as if she’s deciding whether to say something. “He told me ... that he suspected I knew what that was like too. With Henry, and with—” She goes quiet, her dark eyes full of feeling.

“Me?” Emma finally asks gently.

For a moment, everything is quiet and lovely.

Then Regina scoffs. “That’s presumptuous.”

“Please. You were totally hinting at it. That pause was a _hinting_ pause.”

“Miss Swan, do you ever stop being annoying?”

“Regina, after yesterday I’m pretty sure I’ve earned the right to annoy you for at least twenty-four hours.”

To her surprise, Regina looks embarrassed. Emma’s kind of disappointed: she was kinda getting into the bickering groove. Her eyes flitting downward, Regina says, “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s okay,” Emma says truthfully. Sure, it was an exhausting ordeal, but at least it was fun-exhausting—which can’t always be said for all Storybrooke’s shenanigans. “I liked teen Regina.”

“You did?”

“She was a force of nature. But this one’s good too.” Emma reaches forward, smiling a little, and takes Regina’s hand in hers.

Regina stares down at their entwined fingers. “Is she?”

“The best,” Emma promises, beaming, and leans in to kiss her again.

 

_The End_


End file.
